


The Stars Realigned

by ladybiscuits



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, No Voltron Lions, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Tourneys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 18:46:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17431490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladybiscuits/pseuds/ladybiscuits
Summary: Queen of Love and Beauty.A title the tourney champion bestowed to someone of their choosing within the crowd. A longstanding Altean tradition typically taken as a declaration of love or attraction. An expectation of engaged or married contenders to gift the coveted crown of juniberries to their significant other.But two centuries old and recently engaged to Prince Bokar of Senak, Princess Allura of Altea doesn’t expect to fall in love.With someone else.





	The Stars Realigned

“This is lovely, Bokar. Thank you.”

Her own ears picked up on her unenthusiastic response, but the Prince of Senak’s lips stretched into an enigmatic grin anyway. Paired with his gaunt, pale eyes and thinned crimson pupils, it left her feeling sick in the stomach. She averted her gaze from his in the reflection of the mirror, tracing her fingertips across the silver metalwork of the necklace he had gifted her in an effort to disguise her unease.

“Isn’t it?” He pushed the curls off her shoulder, exposing more of her collar. His thin tongue ran over sharpened teeth, touch cool against her neck. “The color is quite exquisite on you.”

At that, Allura had to disagree. Gold suited her best. As did a glittering myriad of crystals and gemstones that covered every color of the spectrum. But he had proven yet again that her sentiments fell on deaf ears. Just like her numerous requests to stop his pursuit for her hand in marriage. A fruitless endeavor on her part since her father ultimately accepted for her.

_It’s a good match, Allura. Think of how much stronger Altea and Senak’s kingdoms will be once we join them together._

Allura sighed. When had men become so useless?

She turned back to her vanity, fingers already undoing the clasp of the necklace. The metal felt cheap, just like his supposed love for her. “Was there anything else you needed?” The sooner he left her alone, the better.

Bokar straightened, cocksure smile undeterred, a hand resting on the hilt of the sword strapped to his belt. The picture of overconfidence. “I’ve come to collect your favor, my dear. I will win in your name _and_ crown you this tourney’s Queen of Love and Beauty.”

_Queen of Love and Beauty._

A title the tourney champion bestowed to someone of their choosing within the crowd. A longstanding Altean tradition typically taken as a declaration of love or attraction. An expectation of engaged or married contenders to gift the coveted crown of juniberries to their significant other. So it came as no surprise that Bokar would vie for the prize he was obligated to win. Another trophy to brag about. Love had nothing to do with it.

“You think so? I recall quite a few skilled warriors arriving last quintant, or did I simply imagine that?” With such an inflated ego, Allura wondered how he managed to stay upright with that large of a head.

“Of course I will! They don’t call me the best swordsman in this sector of the galaxy for nothing.”

This sector, _maybe_. Although, she could say with confidence that she possessed more skill in combat in her pinky alone than he did in his entire body. If she didn’t wish to enjoy her birthday, she’d enlist in the tourney herself. Just to prove a point.

An insistent knock sounded at her door before she could reply. The bubbly voice of Primea, her handmaid, followed soon after. “Princess, I’ve brought your dress!”

Allura brushed past him to approach the door. “You must leave now,” she called out to him as she ushered Primea inside. The short pinkette was all smiles as she entered, buzzing with excitement despite being dwarfed by the pale, iridescent fabric in her arms. That same smile almost immediately dropped from her face once her eyes landed on Bokar.

“I refuse to leave without your favor,” he insisted.

He was near impossible.

Allura rolled her eyes at Primea, who could do nothing but shoot her a sympathetic smile. She could practically feel his triumphant smirk burning into the back of her head as she rifled through the hair accessories strewn about her vanity.

A powder blue ribbon with white trimming. Frayed at the edges. One she hadn’t used in decaphoebs. It would hardly be missed.

She thrust the thin strip of fabric into his waiting hands and steered him towards the door. “Now go.”

Lip curled over sharp teeth with his wink. “I look forward to your company before my first match, princess.” The prince nearly shoved Primea aside on his way out, disappearing through the door with a flick of his frost-colored locks.

Primea finally spoke up once Bokar was out of earshot. “Have I mentioned how much I despise him?” Allura found her innocently laying out her dress on the bed, straightening out the wrinkles.

She could hardly blame her hatred for the pompous prince. More often than not, Bokar treated Primea less like her best friend and more like a personal slave.

“You and me both, Prim.” They shared a giggle before Allura gasped in awe at the dress.

Shimmering pearl fabric. Gold thread sewn into its intricate embroidery. Delicate petal pink gemstones and opalescent crystals embellished the bodice. An outfit conjured up by only her wildest dreams— her _greatest_ fantasies. An ensemble most fitting for her two-hundredth birthday. Her heart nearly burst out of her chest.

“Oh,” she breathed. “It’s so beautiful! It looks straight out of a fairytale.”

Primea’s eyes sparkled a bright green, almost an exact match to the markings on her olive skin. “If it catches the light a certain way, it shines like a rainbow!”

“Does it!?” At Prim’s enthusiastic nod, Allura beamed, clutching her hands against her breast. “Come! Help me get changed! I don’t think I could stand waiting another dobosh.”

* * *

They arrived on the tourney grounds nearly two vargas later, stalled entirely by giggling fits between cosmetic applying and nail painting. But her hair was by far her favorite. Delicate golden line woven into her curls, pinned back by a full blush ribbon. Simple in design, but tedious in nature. And for that, she would forever be thankful to Primea.

The crowd of Alteans and visiting alien species parted for her and Prim as they wandered around, hopping to various stands with their arms linked together. Respectable bows, well wishes and happy birthdays interspersed compliments to her outfit. Her face began to ache with how wide her smile was. She could float away in happiness if she didn’t hold onto Prim’s arm tight enough.

And even with the likelihood of Bokar surprising her with his presence, she didn’t think anything could bring her mood down.

“Who is in the first match, I wonder,” Prim mumbled contentedly around a mouthful of juniberry tart. A mess of crumbs surrounded her mouth as she munched away, humming in utter delight. Allura dusted a few off of her friend’s cheek with her index finger.

“Bokar, definitely. He wouldn’t shut up about it at the welcoming banquet last night. Although I’m unsure of his opponent.”

Primea perked up. “Perhaps Sir Daqri? Or Lady Amin?” Her cheeks turned as pink as her hair. “They were very kind to me during their last visit.”

“Kind, hm?” Allura arched an eyebrow, playfully jostling her friend. “That’s a strange word for _flirting_.”

Her jaw dropped open. Eyes so wide Allura could see the white around her irises. “Flirting!?” She paused thoughtfully. Brows knit together in concern. “Was it flirting? Oh, I’m such a fool, Allura!”

“You may have another chance after the tournament. Or even tomorrow evening at the ball.” Allura sighed as they approached the large holo-screen detailing the event. “I don’t believe they’re against Bokar. I heard no one has the courage to cross him in the first rounds of one-to-one combat.”

“Because he turns into a giant pissbaby when he doesn’t get what he wants?”

Allura threw her head back with an exuberant laugh. “Do you suppose it’s too late to enlist? If I could knock a peg or two off him myself, I would.” Perhaps it would be enough for him to call off the engagement.

“You _would_ — Oh!” Allura turned to see Primea completely caught off guard by the holo-screen. “Oh, he’s… he’s against— I don’t… I don’t remember an announcement for Prince Lotor’s arrival last night. Do you?”

_Prince Lotor._

A person she hadn’t seen since they were children. A name she hadn’t heard in over one hundred and fifty decaphoebs. Not since he was promoted as a Galra commander to prove his worth as both a warrior and tactician, sent off to war at a young age by his own father, Emperor Zarkon.

But there it was: his name blinking next to the Galra banner like a beacon. Right below Prince Bokar’s. Just like Prim said.

The Galra-Drannekian war had ended a mere movement ago. By all accounts, rest and relaxation were in order for the young prince. But instead, he was here on Altea. Enlisted in a frivolous tourney for her birthday. Prepared to compete and win in the name of his people yet again.

How curious.

“Gods, this planet is _stifling_ ,” a woman complained, interrupting her thoughts.

“Is it?” A man chuckled in response. A voice she could only describe as the living embodiment of the honeyed wine she would sample later. Sweet, powerful, _addicting._ Wholly intoxicating and easy on the senses. “Perhaps you should have chosen something more practical to wear.”

The voices immediately drew her attention. To a woman with wan skin and thick waves a shade lighter than juniberry petals — Merla, Queen of the Drules. And to a man in armor as dark as the void of space, his pale hair tied back in a low ponytail. Behind him trailed his fierce charger, its coat the same hue as his armor, and its mane a deep navy. He kept the imposing animal close by its lead.

_Lotor._

The face. The hair. The way he carried himself. With the absence of childhood portliness, it was unmistakably him. Older and refined. Elegant even.

Allura squeezed her companion’s arm, whispering hastily, “Meet me in the stands. And bring more tarts.”

“But, princess, I shouldn’t—”

“Hurry now. I promise I won’t be long.”

A pink brow arched, doubtful green blinking between her, the Galra Prince and the Drule Queen. With her realization came an exaggerated sigh. “Stirring up trouble?”

Allura frowned. “I never start trouble!”

“Mhm.” Prim planted her hands on her hips, expression knowing as she ambled away. “Ten doboshes. That’s all I’m giving you. Then I’ll have Coran dragging you over by the ear.”

Her frown turned into a pout.

When was she ever anything but dutiful?

“—ou _don’t_ understand.” Lotor and Merla had stopped in an unoccupied stall, with the former brushing the horse’s mane. “If I’m not the most attractive person in the room, then what exactly is the point?”

Lotor scoffed. “ _Most attractive._ Don’t be surprised when you find others disagreeing with you. Including myself.” The horse seemed to huff in agreement, nudging its muzzle against Lotor’s shoulder. The prince grinned, giving the great beast a gentle rub to the cheek. “See? Even Sincline agrees. That gown is an atrocity.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong. While it was obviously beautifully made, the colors itself made her look drab and out of place, not to mention stifled. Even Lotor’s armor looked appropriate for the occasion, despite being awash in a sea of white, pinks and gold. Some pieces gleamed indigo in the light, and some finer details like glowing embers.

“Men. I hope you and that filthy animal—”

“—Good morning!” Their scrutiny snapped from each other to herself in a near instant. Never had she witnessed such intensity in a stare, especially from him. Merla’s eyes simply narrowed as she appraised her. Allura bowed her head slightly at the royals in greeting, smile still firmly in place. “Queen Merla, Prince Lotor. I’m pleased you two were able to attend… together?”

Lotor blinked at her, mouth opening and closing before he could form a response. “Princess Allura,” he breathed, returning her smile with a charming one of his own. Completely unlike Bokar’s. How refreshing. “Apologies for our late arrival. Traveling everywhere with your… _intended_ is something we’re both growing accustomed to.”

Intended. Right. She remembered an accord had been struck decaphoebs ago when Merla’s father was on his deathbed, an agreement between the Galra and the Drules to join their people once the war had been won. A thanks for their aid in battle. A united front even after the fight, so to speak.

She could already tell they were anything but, with the way neither were afraid to speak their mind.

The perfect recipe for disaster.

Merla suddenly stepped closer to her, an arm folded across her middle and her other hand placed inquisitively under her chin. The smirk playing off her painted lips rivaled the wicked glint in her pale yellow eyes.

“Oh, how _adorable_ you are, Allura.” Her cackle was downright condescending. Like she should be embarrassed by her fashion sense instead of the other way around. “Look at her in her little dress, Lottie.”

For a fleeting moment, Allura felt incredibly childish. Were the colors all wrong? The style too outdated? Perhaps her fairytale dream dress was too juvenile for someone who just turned two hundred decaphoebs.

Thankfully Lotor jumped to her rescue. “I’d ignore her if I were you, princess. She’s feeling particularly malicious today.”

“It’s quite alright.” Allura clasped her hands together behind her back. Standing tall. _Proud_. She wouldn’t let the one negative remark about her entire ensemble bring her down. “Jealousy creates a monster to even the best of us.”

Lotor guffawed just as Merla’s smug smile wiped clean off her face. Her polite, composed retort had taken both of them off guard, though she suspected for entirely different reasons.

Merla hummed, squaring her shoulders as she canted her hip against her palm. “You’re implying I’m a good person. Of which I freely admit I am not.” A mask of indifference overtook her deathly features as she turned on her heel and sauntered off. “Don’t bother looking for me until you’re ready to interact with adults, Lotor.”

The engagement must have been more trying on the young queen than Allura initially thought. In all her prior visits, she never recalled Merla acting this vicious before.

“A very impressive feat,” Lotor praised once Merla was out of earshot, tucking the brush back into one of Sincline’s saddlebags.

Allura blinked at him, pink dusting the bridge of her nose. “Is it?”

“Of course. I’ve never seen someone render her speechless so quickly.”

She grinned, already lifting her skirts and darting over to his horse. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t—! He doesn’t—!”

Allura reached out, stroking the length of Sincline’s snout despite Lotor’s protests, smile brightening when the beast pushed into her touch in encouragement. His dangerous, glowing amber eyes and sharpened teeth did little to scare her off when he was so cautious in his demand for more attention.

“—like people…” Lotor trailed off uncertainly. He watched the two of them interact in quiet contemplation, brows raised in surprise. “Fascinating.”

“Sincline, was it?” The horse huffed into her palm. A confirmation, it seemed like.

Lotor swallowed, his cheeks oddly flushed a deep violet. Perhaps the weather was stifling for him as well. “Y-Yes…”

“He’s beautiful!” Allura gently rubbed Sincline’s forehead. Strands of his mane tickled the back of her fingers. “What breed is he? I’ve never seen any like him before.”

“Ah… He’s mixed. Altean Qalprig and Galra Kazar.” The former was renowned for its performance agility; loyal and resilient. The latter for its speed and stamina; fierce and fearless. An unthinkable combination, but one that oddly made sense in the way that one’s characteristics nearly completed what the other was lacking.

A perfect balance.

“Two gorgeous breeds. I never would’ve thought.” Her cheeks were beginning to ache again. “He’s quite special then, isn’t he?”

That softened the lingering edge in his eyes, smoothing the wrinkle to his brow. An appreciative grin of his own worked its way onto his lips. “He… He is.” He paused thoughtfully. “Would you… like to feed him?”

“Oh!” Allura practically bounced on her feet. “Could I!?”

Lotor chuckled at her enthusiastic response before he reached into another pocket of the saddlebag, extracting a tightly wrapped package about the size of her hand. “Here.” His touch was gentle — and incredibly warm, almost feverish — against her wrist as he pressed it into her palm. A heavy cut of meat was revealed once Lotor meticulously pulled its wrapping apart.

“No need to take it out of its parcel.” His voice lowered. Washed over her like warm water. “We can’t have you ruining that pretty dress.” Cobalt darkened as his pupils dropped to her bodice, leaving a scorching path in its wake. It lingered far longer than necessary for someone who was spoken for.

Surely he knew about her own betrothed, as well?

Maybe she was getting ahead of herself by assuming things, but that didn’t stop her heart from pounding against her ribcage. Nor the heat spreading across her cheeks. It certainly didn’t help that he looked like… well… _that,_ while he was being so kind to her.

Allura averted her eyes, trying her best to focus on Sincline as he cluelessly munched away at the slab of meat in her hands. Perhaps Prim was right. This was trouble. It felt wrong in a way that she got caught red-handed. And coming here might have been a terrible idea.

Sincline snuffed impatiently against the waxy paper for more scraps, drawing another involuntary giggle out of her.

Well, maybe not _completely_ terrible.

The calloused pads of Lotor’s fingertips brushed her skin as he discarded the wrap for her. Much to her relief, he didn’t seem to notice the way she stiffened at that, nor the shiver it elicited up her spine. Instead, he was preoccupied with praising Sincline for being so well behaved for Altea’s princess. Seeing him fuss over his steed like he was his own child surprisingly endeared her.

His gaze narrowed at something behind her, his smile turning impish. “Ah, your prince approaches.”

And just like that, the air shifted.

She glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, Bokar stalked towards them like a man on a mission, hands balled into fists, nearly knocking over anyone blocking his path. Left unattended with the Galra Prince, no doubt he assumed the worst.

She sighed. It was time to go.

Allura dipped into a modest curtsy, eyes lowered demurely, and hands folded together. “Thank you for indulging me, Prince Lotor. I wish you good luck. May you perform valiantly in all your matches.”

She turned away before he managed to get a word in. Even with some distance away still, the fury in Bokar’s eyes was as clear as day. Allura rolled her shoulders back, steeling herself against the venomous words she was sure to come.

“It was good to see you again, princess,” Lotor suddenly called out.

Allura slowed her walk, her heart fluttering in her chest at the sight of his warm smile. Genuine. No sign of some cheap ploy to win her over for nefarious reasons. So unlike the mischief she gleaned when he was around Merla, or when he spotted Bokar advancing towards them.

She returned his smile with a shy one of her own, concealing it and its accompanying blush behind a sleeve.

Yes. Nothing could surely bring her mood down.

* * *

Bokar never stood a chance.

Arrogance was his downfall fighting against a man riding off the coattails of war, whose bloodlust still sang in his veins. It was evident in the crazed look in his eyes, in the too-wide grin that stretched across his face, in the wicked cackle that echoed throughout the arena.

He transformed into a completely different person in the heat of battle. Dangerous and magnificent. Confident but not conceited. Surprisingly quick on his feet for a man his size. An obvious master at the sword. No gloating required. Allura would be lying if she said it didn’t stir up something primal within her. Something Bokar never managed to evoke in all the time she knew him.

Her poor dress was a wrinkled mess by the time Lotor knocked Bokar’s sword out of his hand. The precious metal splitting in half in the process, ringing in the air before the pieces clattered noisily to the ground.

Effectively ending the match in record time.

Primea snickered beside her at the sight of Bokar helplessly holding the pieces of his shattered weapon in each hand, whispering excitedly. “Prince Lotor actually had the nerve to break that ugly sword! What a rogue!”

Allura giggled right back. “A true hero!”

Coran shushed them, brows arched to his hairline and a gloved finger pressed firmly up to his lips. It only caused them to giggle more.

Horse racing provided better luck for Bokar when he set a new record by almost one full tick. It didn’t last very long, however. The moment Lotor and Sincline crossed the finish line, Bokar lost his lead. The Galra Prince had set _another_ record, shaving off an additional three ticks from Bokar’s. Her heart stuttered at Lotor’s proud smile, at the brief moment their eyes made contact as he passed by on horseback, loose strands that fell out of the tie fluttering in the wind.

Her betrothed, meanwhile, threw a fit outside his tent, snapping out ridiculous orders to his servants. Likely to find an excuse to yell at them later. “That filthy half-breed _must_ be cheating! I’ll find out all his secrets!”

Tipsy on honeyed wine, Allura and Primea strolled by arm in arm in the midst of his outburst, complacent grins on both their faces.

“Drink some water, would you, Bokar? You’re a bit red in the face.” The alcohol made her braver than usual, and her voice high on feigned pity. Primea nearly choked on her sip of wine as she swayed beside her.

They didn’t stay long enough to gauge his reaction. Not that their attention would allow them that much anyway.

The sun began dipping into the horizon by the time the final joust came around, painting the sky a pleasant combination of orange, pink, and purple. The view, the general feeling of happiness swelling in her chest, the hazy effects of alcohol… Allura felt lighter — _more carefree_ — than she had in phoebs. A wonderful change of pace from the typical sense of misery that accompanied her since the engagement.

Down at opposite ends of the line, Lotor and Bokar prepared for the last three passes. Allura couldn’t think of a more menacing duo than Lotor and Sincline as he sat astride the fearsome charger. A stark contrast to Bokar who stood there yelling at his own steed about how it “better not ruin this for him”. She rolled her eyes.

“Who would’ve thought Prince Lotor was so skilled,” Prim said, shoving a handful of crystal fruit jellies into her mouth.

Yes. Skilled. _Incredibly so._ Her entire body warmed as he diligently fastened his helmet, then tested the weight of the lance his steward handed to him. Even from her distance, she could tell his grip was strong. It was evident in the way his muscles flexed, straining the fabric of his sleeve. Deep in her subconscious, a depraved part of her wondered what else those powerful hands were capable of. What they would feel like against h—

“Now _you’re_ red in the face,” Prim pointed out, drunkenly poking her cheek. “Has Bokar finally rubbed off on you?”

“What? No!” Allura waved her hand away, hiding behind her glass. Perhaps the extra cup of wine wasn’t a smart idea for both of them. “It’s… It’s just the wine speaking.” Hopefully it was what put indecent thoughts into her head as well. Falling over herself and daydreaming about handsome men was so unlike her. That certain kind of reputation was more on par with Princess Corral. Primea too, to a much lesser degree.

The first pass.

The rolling thunder of the gallop. Both riders exuding confidence as they kept their lances steady. And then suddenly, a hint of hesitation in Lotor’s demeanor before the clash of the strike. Despite it, Lotor was still granted two points. Just like Bokar.

Allura’s brow furrowed.

The hesitation was odd. He hadn’t exhibited anything of that sort the entire quintant. Not during the races, and especially not during his duels. She would even hazard to include his flirtations with her, as well.

The second pass.

Thunder. Resolution. Doubt. Strike.

A lance left intact in spite of a hit. One point for Lotor, and two for Bokar.

“What the quiznak is he doing!?” Prim practically wailed, dramatically throwing her arms over the railing and leaning heavily against it. “ _Destroy him, Prince Lotor!_ ” Allura giggled behind her hand at her friend’s inebriated antics. Yes, the extra cup of honeyed wine was a terribly wonderful idea.

The Galra Prince had removed his helmet, his hair a beautiful mess and cowlick sticking to the sweat on his forehead. Those exquisite ears twitched at Primea’s outburst, and he shot her a knowing smirk over an armored shoulder. Allura caught that familiar glint in his eye before he turned back to his steward.

Mischief.

Like that morning when Bokar came to retrieve her. There was a glimpse of it too during their one-to-one match. Right before he utterly wrecked him.

Oh.

_Oh._

A grin pulled at her lips.

It was all a ruse. Holding back for the sole purpose of leading Bokar into a false sense of security. All before ultimately proving the full capacity of his strength. Judging by the way Bokar strut around atop his charger, it obviously worked. And even with the helmet obscuring his face, Allura could imagine the cocksure smile most assuredly plastered there.

The third and final pass.

Allura sat at the edge of her seat as both princes took their respective places on opposite sides of the line. The instant Bokar’s gaze landed on Lotor, she witnessed his attitude shift. He’d gone still. Posture stiff and hands curled tightly around the reins.

Lotor had shaken him with nothing but renewed confidence and an easygoing smirk. Like he knew something Bokar didn’t.

Just as she expected of her betrothed, Bokar threw off his helmet to match. Frustration crossing his features as he snatched up his lance. Anything remotely cowardly was unacceptable in his eyes. If his opponent battled him in the final tilt with less protection, then so would he.

Suddenly, they were spurring their horses into a furious gallop. The curious chatter around her muted save for the thunder rumbling in her ears again.

Closer and closer.

An unnatural calm gleamed in Lotor’s eyes. Fear flashed through Bokar’s.

And then—

It was over far too soon.

Lotor struck hard and true, his lance shattering with a perfect blow, unseating Bokar from his mount in the process. Cheers erupted throughout the crowd as soon as Bokar’s back audibly hit the dirt. The Prince of Senak curled in on himself in pain as his horse took off without him, whimpering pathetically as if Lotor had actually penetrated his armor at the shoulder.

“I’m injured!” he whined, dramatically holding his shoulder. “Disqualify him!”

Coran clicked his tongue, getting a good look at this “injury”. He twirled his mustache in amusement, chuckling, “It’s nothing but a clean dent, Prince Bokar! Perhaps some ice will help with that battered ego, hm?”

How pitiful. Even Coran couldn’t resist a good ribbing.

The sight brought a satisfied smile to her face.

“And now!” Coran held up a familiar crown of magenta juniberries in a flourish, attracting everyone’s attention at once. “As Altean tradition states, our new champion, Prince Lotor of Daibazaal, will now crown his Queen— or King, I’m not one to judge— of Love and Beauty!”

Lotor carefully took the delicate ring of flowers from Coran, then prompted Sincline to move with a firm press of his heels.

 _Merla_ , Allura heard onlookers whisper under their breath. _The second Drule to covet the title since her Queen mother over three hundred decaphoebs ago._

But the enraptured chatter turned into confusion as he rode past Merla. No glance spared her way at all. The entire arena was thrown into complete and utter silence as he slowed to a halt in front of her instead.

Her heart pounded hard against her ribs as she stood up on shaky legs. Sweetness filled the air as she drew closer. From the crown or him, she couldn’t say. But his charming smile immediately reeled her in, lighting up her insides with a burning ache. A beacon in a sea of strangers.

Lotor offered her the crown. Eyes clear and gentle. Blind to everyone except her. “Princess.”

Allura swallowed. Hands trembling.

His Queen of Love and Beauty. He had picked _her._ Over everyone. Over his own fiancée. A declaration of love or attraction.

Love, definitely not.

But attraction? Well…

_Reject him. This isn’t proper._

But her heart won easily over her better judgment, possibly thanks to the alcohol, and her hands did their own bidding. Cheeks hot, she reached out as she returned his smile, his touch a tender whisper against her fingers as she accepted the crown of juniberries. The dewdrop crystals decorating the flowers sparkled rouge and lavender in the light of the sunset.

Allura ignored the condemning stares of her family’s retainers as she placed it on her head.

A perfect fit.

As if she were meant to wear it. Just like he was fated to bestow it upon her.

Lotor’s grin widened, his entire demeanor brightening at the vision of her. A reflection of her own smile, she realized.

A source of sweetness and comfort.

Amidst a magnitude of silence.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Suggestions and ideas are welcome! And feedback is always encouraged! Thanks for reading <3


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